


Poison and Wine

by Kats_watermelon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/M, background Bellarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-22 08:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kats_watermelon/pseuds/Kats_watermelon
Summary: John Murphy knows that he has to win the Hunger Games. But when he meets a girl from District Nine with a deformed hand and a charming smile, he's not so sure anymore. Title from the Civil Wars's songPoison and Wine





	Poison and Wine

Murphy stared at the ground, counting the wildflowers springing up at his feet. People were still filing into the courtyard, scared eyes scanning the crowd. Wondering if they would be next in the arena. Wondering if one of these people would be their partner. Wondering if one of them would kill them.

_23_

Murphy wasn’t one to predict the future, but he knew how many times his name was in the bowl. He’d needed the food. Since his mother’s death, his supplies had been low. Being in a wealthy district did nothing for orphans.

_38_

The representative for their district got up on the stage and began rambling about history and all other kinds of bullshit.

_51_

“Now, for the tributes! We’ll do the men first this year, shake things up a little!”

_63_

“You know what, I change my mind. Ladies first!”

_72_

“Ahem. Sarah Abbott.”

_83_

“Now for the men!”

_95_

“Ahem. John Murphy.”

_100_

 

* * *

 

If there was one thing Murphy would give the Capitol any sort of credit for, it was that they had good food. He avoided the fish, his stomach rolling at the thought of it, and paid more attention to the other dishes that were available. Meat and cheese and wine and vegetables and _fruit_ he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fruit –

“Murphy?”

He glanced up at Sarah, the other tribute. She looked terrified. He was scared too, but at least he didn’t let it show.

“Do you think the kids from District One are going to try to team up with us?” she asked. Murphy shrugged, picking up an apple from a platter in the middle of the table. He’d seen the tributes from District One. Clarke Griffin and Wells Jaha, a pair of best friends that both looked and probably were deadly.

“I think I’m going to do whatever I can to survive,” he said. “And if that includes teaming up with the District One kids, then I guess I’ll team up with them.”

Sarah gulped, her eyes flicking down to her meal.

After dinner, their mentors pulled them aside to go over the tributes that had been picked. Murphy took another apple, eating it while he watched the recordings of the reapings.

From District One was Clarke and Wells. They both didn’t look happy about being picked, and a middle-aged woman Murphy guessed was Clarke’s mother screamed when Clarke’s name was called.

From District Two was a girl named Harper McIntyre and a boy named Nathan Miller. The girl was sobbing uncontrollably and Miller just stood there, stonefaced.

From District Three was a girl named Raven Reyes and a boy named Monty Green. Murphy made a mental note to keep an eye on them. District Three tributes were clever, too clever for their own good.

The tributes from District Five were both barely old enough. One was a tiny girl named Charlotte that Murphy thought looked too young to even be in the reapings, much less the Games.

The tributes from District Six didn’t look much better.

From District Seven was a boy named Bryan, who seemed like more of a fighter than the girl he was with, Fox. Murphy put him on his mental list.

From District Eight was a boy, Finn Collins, who looked ready to puke. The girl, Zoe Monroe, looked much tougher. She went on Murphy’s list.

From District Nine was a girl whose name Murphy didn’t catch and a trembling boy named Japer Jordan. Jasper didn’t seem like a threat and he didn’t get a good look at the girl.

From District Ten were two kids that looked like they could break Murphy in half without breaking a sweat. Probably butchers. He made a mental note to steer clear of them.

The tributes from District Eleven were nothing to worry about. One fainted onstage and the other just sobbed.

From District Twelve was a pair of siblings. Bellamy Blake volunteered after his sister’s name was called. He was most likely going to make sure that she won over anything else. Murphy studied him. Either he needed to make an ally out of Bellamy, or avoid him entirely.

His mentor shut off the screen and said it was time to get some sleep.

Murphy stared at the black screen, his mind turning over the tributes he’d seen. Which of them would he have to kill to survive?

Which of them would kill him?

 

* * *

 

He learned that the female tribute from District Nine was named Emori, and that her left hand was deformed. Despite this, she seemed fierce and resourceful. The first time Murphy saw her up close was on the training deck, when she was rigging traps that would cripple whoever stepped anywhere close to them. He’d found that he was pretty good with throwing knives and practiced with them most of the time. That was what he was doing when Emori sidled up next to him.

“You don’t seem like a Career to me,” she said, picking up one of the knives next to him. He raised an eyebrow at her. “And you didn’t volunteer.”

She twirled the knife expertly around her right fingers. Murphy didn’t take his eyes off the target.

“I didn’t. I put my name in for tesserae.”

“In District Four?”

He shot her a smirk.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

She shrugged.

“Call me in need of allies.”

“And you started with someone from a Career district?” His knife landed in the chest of the target.

“I never said I had any sense.”

Murphy bit back a smile. She had guts. He liked that.

“Well,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going to make a lot of allies. The other tributes don’t seem to like me, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed. That’s why I like you.”

This got his attention. He lowered his throwing arm and glanced at her. Her eyes had flecks of gold in them.

“I can tell you’re smarter than you look,” she said, still twirling the knife in her hand. “And that you really don’t want to die.”

“Oh, what gave it away?”

She smirked at that but continued.

“I can also tell that you want allies, but don’t know how to get them.”

“Call me friendless.”

She smiled at that and Murphy’s heart skipped a beat. _Shit_.

“Alright,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Convince me.”

She smirked and whirled around, flinging the knife she’d been twirling. It struck dead center of the target’s head.

“I’m convinced,” Murphy said. Emori smiled again and he swore she pulled the floor out from under him in that moment. “I’ll talk to my mentor.”

 

* * *

 

“Absolutely not,” his mentor said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not with a girl from Nine. And certainly not the girl with the deformed hand.”

“But–”

“I said no.”

Murphy glared at the man for a solid minute before muttering, “Fine,” and heading to his room. _Prick._

The next day, on the training deck, Emori sidled up next to him with that smirk on her face.

“How about that alliance?” she said, swiping a knife out of his hand.

“My mentor said no,” Murphy replied, taking the knife back. “But I don’t really give a shit about what he thinks.”

Emori grinned.

“Sounds good to me.”

 

* * *

 

Murphy blinked at the sudden sunlight, his heart pounding. His eyes took a moment to adjust, and he stared around at the arena. They were standing in a clearing in front of the Cornucopia, surrounded by thick trees. He glanced around at the other tributes. Sarah was a few pedestals away from him and he spotted Emori on the other side. She met his gaze. They’d discussed potential strategies for the bloodbath. His was to grab what he could and run. Hers wasn’t much different. If he could get his hands on some knives, great.

He slid his gaze to the Cornucopia, trying to determine what he could grab safely. His eyes landed on a backpack near the edge. Lying next to it was a couple bundles of rope and what looked like a net. A meter away, a set of throwing knives glinted in the sun.

Murphy narrowed his eyes. It was close by. He could make it.

The canon blasted and he immediately sprinted for the backpack and the rope. He saw Emori snatch up a hunting knife the length of her forearm and slice the back of Raven Reyes’s knee on her way towards him. He snatched the backpack, bringing it up to hit one of the tributes from Eleven when she tried to grab the rope. The backpack wasn’t too heavy, but the girl was small. Next was the throwing knives. He grabbed the whole set, shoving them into the backpack, and took the rope. The good news was that he was on the fringes of the fight. The bad news was that Emori wasn’t. The other good news was that she was a fast runner.

“Come on!” he shouted. She’d grabbed a backpack as well at some point and was skirting around the edges of the fighting. Murphy spotted Bellamy Blake, his hand in his sister’s, running in the opposite direction. Clarke Griffin was standing over the body of Jasper Jordan, a spear sticking out of his chest. She yanked it out and her gaze landed on Emori, running towards Murphy. Panic spiked in Murphy’s chest and he screamed, “Faster!”

Emori reached him just as Clarke threw the spear. Murphy yanked Emori to the ground with him and the spear sailed over their heads. The second it had, he was on his feet again, clutching Emori’s wrist and sprinting into the forest.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, let’s overview today’s bloodbath.”

“Jasper Jordan got taken out early by Clarke Griffin. Spear to the chest. Excellent form by Clarke, I must say. We were right about her being dangerous.”

“Yes, and Wells seemed to hold his own _well_.”

“Yes, you’re right, though that pun was not. Both of our District Six tributes are dead, having crossed Bellamy Blake.”

“He’ll be an interesting one to watch. And his little sister as well.”

“Absolutely. Did you see the way she took out that boy from Eleven? They might surprise us.”

“Speaking of surprises, it seems that John Murphy from District Four has teamed up with the girl from District Nine.”

“Yes, Emori. That is certainly a surprising alliance. They will also be something to pay attention to as we get these Games started. What’s the total for today?”

“Seven dead. Jasper Jordan from District Nine, both District Six tributes, the boy from District Five, Finn Collins from District Eight, Fox from District Seven, and the boy from District Eleven.”

“Not bad this year. Only a fourth of them.”

“Not bad at all. We’ll have to see how these Games shake out. It’s certainly going to be interesting.”

 

* * *

 

The forest was thick and wet, leading Murphy to believe that they would get rain. The two of them found a creek with a small underground cave. It was easily defensible and far enough away from the Cornucopia, where the District One and Two tributes were surely setting up. Emori got to work setting traps all around the creek, both for animals and people. Murphy was tasked with sorting through the supplies he and Emori had snagged at the bloodbath. He set aside the throwing knives, splitting the set in half. In the two backpacks were water bottles, supplies for starting a fire, a weird pouch that he guessed was for rain collection, strange opaque strips of material that he guessed were bandages, and a couple of clear plastic-like tarps.

“Traps are set,” Emori said, sitting down next to Murphy. She set her knife down on the ground. “What kind of supplies to we have?”

“I’m not sure,” Murphy said, examining the tarps. “Looks like some kind of rain shelter? I honestly don’t know. I’m going to go out to the creek and collect some water. See if there are any fish.”

“I’ll be here. We should sleep in shifts. One of us keeps watch, the other sleeps?”

Murphy nodded.

“I’ll keep watch.”

Emori curled up in the corner, using one of the backpacks as a pillow. Murphy didn’t miss the way she kept one hand wrapped around her hunting knife. He ducked out of the cave, taking the water bottles with him. He found a couple of packets of iodine crystals at the bottom of the backpacks and dropped those to the bottom of the water bottles. The creek water was cool and felt clean, but Murphy wasn’t taking any chances. He filled both bottles, then splashed some of the water on his face. He checked the creek for any sign of fish, but found nothing.

He sat at the mouth of the cave, behind a bush, and watched for anybody that might be trying to sneak up on them. Emori’s traps covered most of the surrounding area around the cave, but one could never be too careful. He kept a knife in one hand, the others in close reach.

The one question that remained on his mind was the one that he was most afraid of voicing – what would happen if he and Emori were the last two tributes in the arena? They’d become good friends in the short time that they’d known each other, and there was something about her sharp wit that Murphy couldn’t help but like. He didn’t know if he could really bring himself to kill her, even if it was the only thing he could do to survive.

Emori came out of the cave a while later and tapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Your turn. I’ll wake you up at dawn.”

“What’s the plan?” Murphy asked. Emori shrugged.

“See if we can get some food first. Then we can see if we can maybe spy a little on the other tributes. Maybe steal a few supplies.”

Murphy grinned.

“Sounds like a plan.”

He crawled into the cave and curled up in the back corner, keeping one knife in his hand. While he liked Emori, he still didn’t trust her. She woke him up at dawn as she promised.

“I spotted somebody walking by about a minute ago,” she whispered to him. “They didn’t see me, but I think it’s one of the tributes from Ten.”

Murphy got up, grabbing one of the backpacks.

“Did you see which way he went?”

“Yeah. What are you thinking?”

“We follow him,” Murphy said, strapping the knives to himself. “Like you said, steal some supplies.”

A heavy silence fell between them and Murphy could tell what they were both thinking.

_If they got the chance, should they kill him?_

“Let’s go,” Emori finally said. They headed away from the cave, careful to avoid her traps. They moved carefully through the forest, going in the direction Emori had seen the District Ten tribute going in. They eventually ran across a small campsite. The District Ten tribute had his back to them, bent over what looked like a campfire. They hid behind a couple of trees and studied the little campsite. Murphy didn’t see any weapons. Maybe he didn’t have any.

They both saw the backpack at the same time. Murphy looked up at Emori. It was close, but not close enough. There was no way she could grab it without the other tribute noticing. He shook his head, but Emori was already creeping forward. Murphy reached out one hand to her, unable to say anything in case the other tribute heard.

Emori grabbed the backpack slowly, lifting it off the ground soundlessly. Murphy held his breath, waiting for her to get back over to him so that they could get the hell out of there.

Emori’s foot snapped a stick.

Before Murphy could blink, the District Ten tribute had whirled around and had his hand wrapped around Emori’s neck. Her feet lifted off the ground a little and Murphy heard her choking. He jumped out from behind the tree, reaching for one of his knives. Emori beat him to it. She pulled the hunting knife out of her belt and slashed the boy’s throat. He dropped her immediately, blood spurting from his neck. It splattered on Emori’s face and she took a step back from the dying boy, her eyes wide. Murphy stared.

A cannon fired.

“We should take his supplies,” Murphy finally said. “Come on. Put out the fire, too.”

Emori nodded and started gathering the supplies that the boy had managed to gather. They found a dead squirrel in one of his bags and grinned at each other. That would make a good meal. There weren’t many other supplies. The same that they’d found in the backpacks they’d taken from the Cornucopia as well as some medical salve. Murphy found a sword under a pile of leaves.

“This might come in handy,” he said, picking it up. “Maybe you could work it into one of your traps.”

Emori nodded, her eyes a little distant. Murphy set his hand on her arm.

“Come on. Let’s get back to the cave.”

They trekked back, both on high alert. None of Emori’s traps had been sprung in the short time that they’d been gone. They took the supplies into the cave, beginning to sort them out. Emori disappeared outside the cave for a minute and came back with a wet rag, wiping the blood off her face. Murphy noticed her hand shaking.

“Hey,” he said, crouching down next to her. “You did what you had to.”

“We were just there for the supplies,” she said, wiping off another smear of blood.

“Chances are, it won’t be the last time you have to do that,” Murphy said. “As much as I hate to say it.”

Emori sighed, the rag dropping to the ground.

“I know.”

Murphy picked up the fallen rag and finished wiping the blood from Emori’s face. The soft gesture seemed to startle her. When he was finished, he tossed it to the side and said, “Why don’t we talk about something else while I cook that squirrel?”

“We should check the creek for fish again.”

Murphy’s nose wrinkled.

“I’m not really a fan of fish,” he said. Emori laughed at that.

“District Four and you’re not a fan of fish? You are full of surprises, John.”

“So are you,” Murphy said, starting to build a small fire pit. “Tell me about District Nine.”

Emori sat back, watching him work.

“It’s flat,” she finally said. “I lived on the edges of the district, where there were more trees.”

“Got any family?”

She was silent at that question and Murphy glanced up at her. She was staring at her left hand. It had a missing pinky and the two middle fingers were fused together. Her thumb was shorter than the one on her right hand and the index finger didn’t bend properly.

“I have a brother,” she finally said. “Otan.”

“Your parents died?”

She shook her head.

“They threw me out when I was born. Because of my hand.”

Murphy’s breath caught.

“My brother took care of me. He put his name in for tesserae every year he could to keep me fed. He didn’t want me to put my name in for tesserae, but we needed the food, so I did. The odds have never been in my favor.”

Murphy stayed silent after her story, setting up a few more sticks in the fire.

“What about you?” she asked. “Do you have a family back in Four?”

Murphy shook his head, grabbing flint out of one of the backpacks.

“My parents died when I was a kid,” he said.

“I’m sorry. What happened?”

He took a deep, shaking breath.

“When I was about eight, I got food poisoning from an undercooked fish. My dad – my dad thought it was worse than it really was. We couldn’t afford the medicine, so he tried to steal it for me. Got shot. My mom died not long after. She drank herself to death.” The kindling lit. “I have no siblings. No family.”

The cave was silent except for the crackle of the fire. Murphy pulled the dead squirrel out of the backpack they’d taken from the Ten boy and started to clumsily skin it. Once they had cooked it, they started to talk about the plan moving forward.

“We should scout out the other tributes,” Emori said. “Seven died at the bloodbath, so not including us there are fifteen left.”

A heavy silence.

“Fourteen. My point is, we should see what we’re dealing with now that we’re all in an arena together.”

“You’re right.” Murphy said, stirring the fire a little to keep it going. “We should also scout a little more of the terrain. Maybe set up more traps somewhere else. Do you have any of that rope left?”

Emori stood, grabbing the sword from the cave floor.

“No, but if I incorporate this, I will.”

She disappeared outside the cave for a few minutes. Murphy started splitting the supplies evenly between two backpacks. He was counting iodine packets when he heard the cannon.

Panic stabbed through his chest and he shot to his feet, shouting, “Emori!” as he ran for the cave entrance. He burst from the mouth, a knife in each hand, and found a very confused-looking Emori standing by the creek, ropes in hand. The panic drained from Murphy’s muscles when a quick evaluation of her revealed that she was entirely unharmed and alone.

“What was that?” he asked, sheathing the knives. Emori shrugged, returning to the trap she was rigging.

“Not either one of us, so it was good,” she replied. Murphy nodded. She shot a weird look in his direction. “You were worried about me.”

Murphy’s cheeks flushed and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t know if the cannon was for you.”

She stared at him for a long second before returning to her trap. Murphy went back into the cave, trying to calm his racing heart.

_Of course he was worried. She was –_

That was just the thing. Who was Emori to him? His friend? His ally?

“John! We should go now!”

He pushed the question to the back of his mind and grabbed the backpacks he’d prepared. Emori was waiting just outside the cave, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Murphy looked closer and realized that she’d actually managed to tie her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck. _Resourceful._

“Which way should we go first?” Murphy asked.

“We came from that way, west,” Emori said, pointing to the right. “That way is towards the Cornucopia and the center of the arena. I’m assuming Clarke and Wells will be there–”

Another cannon fired. They exchanged a glance.

“We’ll start there and then work our way west,” she finished. “Can you climb trees?”

Murphy glanced at the trees that made up the forest.

“Well enough,” he said.

“Good.”

They started towards the Cornucopia, walking in silence. Murphy kept stealing glances at Emori, noting the way the dappled light shining through the trees created shifting patterns on her cheeks, or how the gold flecks in her eyes stood out more when the sun hit them.

“There it is,” Emori said, grabbing Murphy’s arm to get him to stop. The touch sent a jolt of electricity up his arm that left behind a buzzing feeling that he couldn’t shake. He focused on what was in front of them – the Cornucopia. It glinted innocently in the late afternoon sunlight, belying what was inside.

Emori squinted at the ground around the Cornucopia.

“Look,” she said. Murphy followed her gaze. Freshly turned dirt. He narrowed his eyes, looking around the rest of the clearing. The same freshly turned dirt appeared around the pedestals. The connection clicked.

“They put landmines around the Cornucopia,” he said. “Smart. Maybe they’ve got the tributes from Three in there.”

“Maybe. Do you think we can get closer? We can’t see inside from here.”

“We’ll have to go around.”

They took the long way around the round clearing, through the woods, watching out for signs of landmines. Murphy kept a knife in one hand and an eye on Emori’s back. He didn’t want anything sneaking up on her – on either one of them.

_Get your head on straight, you idiot._

They finally made it to the other side of the clearing, where they had a good view of the Cornucopia. They could see four people inside: Clarke, Wells, Raven, and Monty. The District One and District Three tributes.

“Dangerous group,” Murphy said, studying the four tributes. Wells was sorting what looked like plants and herbs, Clarke was sharpening her spear, Raven was sitting a little bit apart from the group and fiddling with something that was probably explosive, and Monty was peering at what Raven was doing. “What do you think they’re planning?”

“Who knows,” Emori said. “Do you think we can take any of them out from a distance?”

“No,” Murphy said. “I can’t throw that far and we don’t know where the landmines are.”

Emori glanced around.

“We can climb a tree and wait for one of them to leave,” she said. “They have to eventually. They’ll need water and food.”

Murphy nodded. They found a tree nearby that had enough room for both of them, made sure they wouldn’t be visible from the ground, and settled in to watch. After a little while, Wells finished sorting through the plants. He stood and said something to Raven and Monty, setting his hand on Clarke’s shoulder on the way by. Murphy narrowed his eyes as Wells walked carefully out of the Cornucopia, following a zigzag pattern through the dirt. He disappeared into the woods on the other side.

“He’s probably going to gather more food,” Emori said. “We should go after him.”

“No,” Murphy said, setting one hand on her arm. “Look.”

Clarke stood up, still holding her spear, and said something to Raven and Monty. The two District Three tributes nodded, focused on their work. Murphy heard leaves crunch below them and panicked. Had they been spotted? He carefully shifted, looking below him. Bellamy was standing at the base of the tree, a hand on the axe looped through his belt. It was a small weapon, but Murphy wasn’t fooled. He’d seen Bellamy kill two tributes with one swing of that axe.

Clarke took a similar weaving path away from the Cornucopia, jogging towards the trees once she’d passed the land mines. Murphy frowned. What was going on?

“Bellamy,” she said, hitting the tree line. Murphy watched, his mouth dropping open, as Bellamy and Clarke shared a tight embrace.

_District One’s princess and District Twelve’s volunteer? That’s certainly unexpected._

“Do they suspect you?” Bellamy asked.

“No. Everything is good on my end. Where’s Octavia?”

“She’s back at our hiding place. Any news on the other tributes?”

“Wells got the girl from Four earlier. No sign of Murphy or the girl from Nine. I don’t know about the cannon this morning, but I got the girl from Eleven around the same time Wells got the girl from Four.”

“Good. That narrows it down. There’s fourteen of us left. Any progress on getting rid of the pair from Three?”

Murphy’s eyes widened.

“I’m working on it. I might be able to stage an accident with the landmines to keep Wells from getting suspicious.”

“What are we going to do about him?”

Clarke’s voice got sharp.

“Look, Bellamy, I’m not going to stab Wells in the back, figuratively or literally. I know what we agreed, but if he dies, it won’t be by my hand.”

Murphy exchanged a glance with Emori. He wondered if they would be able to surprise Bellamy and Clarke with a couple of knives, but decided against it. He’d seen the two of them in training. Bellamy was fast and Clarke was smart. Murphy and Emori would be dead before they even hit the ground.

“Stay safe,” Bellamy said. “I’ll meet you by the creek at sunset.”

The two of them shared a brief kiss before Bellamy disappeared into the woods. Clarke stayed there for a moment, shifting the spear in her grip, before she finally headed back towards the Cornucopia. Murphy and Emori waited for a little while, to make sure that it was safe before they climbed down from the tree. They made their way back to the cave in rapidly falling darkness. They found a rabbit in one of Emori’s traps and cooked it for dinner.

“What do we do now?” Emori asked, poking the fire with a long stick. “Bellamy and Clarke have teamed up. They’ll be unstoppable.”

“Not necessarily,” Murphy murmured, staring into the fire. “What if we found a way to turn them against each other?”

Emori gave him a strange look, then her eyes widened.

“Octavia.”

“If we took Octavia out, and made it seem like Clarke did it, Bellamy would kill her in an instant. That would take out at least one of the deadliest people in this arena. After that, we’d have to take out Bellamy, if he doesn’t die in the fight with Clarke.”

Emori nodded.

“It’s a solid plan,” she said. “How are we going to pull it off?”

“Bellamy said he and Octavia had a hiding place. We just need to find it. And in the meantime–”

“–we need to steal a spear,” Emori finished with a smile. Murphy grinned and Emori tossed her stick in the fire, standing and saying she’d take first watch.

They made a pretty good team.

 

* * *

 

“Day Two!”

“It certainly has been a rollercoaster of a day. We started off with the odd team of Murphy and Emori following one of the tributes from Ten. Did you see Murphy when Emori was caught?”

“Yes, their relationship is quickly becoming one that I’m excited to watch. He was ready to defend her, but Emori beat him to it, leaving District Ten down a tribute.”

“Yup. Meanwhile, Raven and Monty have proven to be resourceful enough to replant the mines from the pedestals to protect the Cornucopia. They’ve teamed up with Clarke and Wells from District One, but it’s not an alliance that seems very authentic.”

“No, we discovered that Bellamy has some friends in District One, specifically a certain blonde-haired tribute.”

“That was certainly a shocker, and not just to us.”

“No, it appears that Murphy and Emori were privy to that information too, though they discovered it while hiding in a tree.”

“Mmhmm. Moving on to today’s other two kills, Clarke and Wells ran into a small group while they were out foraging for food. Sarah from Four was killed by a slashed throat, very nice and neat, as we’ve come to expect from Wells. Eleven’s girl did not meet so neat a fate, however. Spear to the chest from Clarke. It’s becoming her signature move.”

“Indeed it is. That brings our total for today up to three, and our total overall to ten, with fourteen left. What do you think we should expect going forward?”

“More sneakiness from Murphy and Emori, that’s for sure. It seems they’re plotters. We’ll definitely have to keep an eye on Bellamy and Clarke and see where that alliance takes them. As for the rest of the tributes, they seem to be holding their own fairly well. Our District Two tributes have been hiding out, though nobody can be sure what they’ll do next. It’s possible that they might try teaming up with Bellamy or Clarke.”

“Or maybe both.”

“Maybe! Nobody can truly know. We’ll have to watch and see.”

 

* * *

 

Two days passed without much happening. Murphy and Emori started setting traps all over their section of woods, for both animals and people. Meanwhile, they began to grow closer. Emori had a funny habit of tucking her hand away around people, but it had begun to fade around Murphy. He found that she was very good at using it despite the struggles he’d initially assumed she would have. He guessed that after a lifetime of living with it, she would get used to doing things mostly with one hand.

“It’s been quiet,” Emori said, tightening the ropes on one of her traps. She nodded at Murphy and he released the rope he’d been holding. The ropes held. The two of them had dismantled the net that Murphy had brought back from the Cornucopia bloodbath for more rope. They now had traps that spanned the majority of their section of woods.

“Maybe everyone’s taking a day off,” Murphy said, grabbing his backpack. He grinned at Emori, pulling the backpack on. “Maybe we can head back to the cave and take a well-deserved nap.”

Emori said nothing to that, her eyes narrowing at the forest around them. Murphy was instantly on alert.

“It’s too quiet,” she said. “Do you hear that?”

Murphy cocked his head.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Emori said, looking around. “There were birds just a minute ago. Birds and the rustle of squirrels. Something’s wrong.”

Overhead, the skies began to darken. Emori looked up, sighing.

“Great, it’s going to rain. Let’s get back to the cave. We can figure out what’s going on there.”

Something in Murphy’s mind clicked. The clear tarp in their backpacks.

“Emori, wait!”

The first drops of rain hit his face and burned.

Murphy sprinted to Emori, dragging her to the ground with him and pulling the plastic tarp out of his backpack. He pulled Emori close to him and yanked the tarp over the two of them just as it started to pour. Emori stared as the rain soaked the forest floor, leaves curling and hissing.

“Acid rain,” she said softly. Murphy pulled the edges of the tarp down further over them and Emori further into him, trying to keep as much of them under the tarp as possible.

Only a minute after the rain started, they heard screaming. Murphy looked up, his arms around Emori tightening. They saw the redhaired girl from District Eight stumble past them, her skin burning and blistering. Emori put one hand over her mouth. The girl collapsed only a few meters away from Murphy and Emori, her screams fading out. The rain continued to pour, the girl’s skin becoming more and more marred.

A cannon fired.

Murphy shut his eyes, curling around Emori even more. He’d pulled her out of the rain in time. She was still alive.

The rain didn’t stop for what felt like hours. Murphy and Emori remained curled under their tarp, waiting for it to pass. Monroe’s body remained where it was next to them. Murphy guessed that they had to be further away from it before the Gamemakers would remove it.

When the rain finally did stop, it was like somebody had shut off a faucet. One minute, death pouring from the heavens, the next, sunshine. Murphy lifted his head cautiously. When there was no sign of the rain returning, he said, “Let’s get back to the cave.”

He lifted the tarp off of them and stood. Emori got up, still staring at Monroe’s body.

“Come on,” Murphy said. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Emori nodded, picking up her backpack. Murphy spotted drops of water on the tarp and wiped them off with his hand.

_Dumbass move._

The water burned his hand. He dropped the tarp, clutching his left hand and hissing in pain. Emori turned and said, “What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s still acid when it hits the ground,” Murphy said with a strained laugh. “And I’m an idiot.”

Emori glanced at his hand, then carefully picked up the tarp by the side that didn’t have acid rain on it.

“We’ll take a look at that back at the cave,” she said. “We need to keep moving.”

Murphy nodded, grabbing his backpack and wincing when the strap rubbed against the burn. He and Emori headed back to the cave, avoiding the traps they’d set before they realized that they didn’t have to. Emori found deteriorated ropes everywhere. The acid rain must have broken down all of the ropes, ruining their traps.

Some of the traps closest to the cave hadn’t been broken down and were still functional, including the one that Emori had rigged with the sword from the Ten boy. They didn’t touch those, wary of the lingering dampness. Inside the cave was dry and safe, their supplies exactly as they left them.

“Monroe was the only cannon we heard,” Emori said, dropping her backpack next to the fire pit. Murphy crouched down and got a fire going. “So it’s safe to say that there are still thirteen tributes left. Eleven not counting the two of us.”

Murphy nodded. Emori sat down across from him, taking his hand in both of hers. She turned it over to study the burns. Her fingers gently ran over the top of the skin, brushing softly over the burns. Murphy shivered at the touch, raising his eyes to her face.

“You pulled me out of the rain,” she said softly. Murphy swallowed.

“Yeah.”

Emori startled him by leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she said quietly. Murphy stared at her, the warmth spreading from the spot her lips had touched his skin. She sat there, staring right back, until the space between them felt charged with something that Murphy couldn’t quite identify. He was the first to look away.

“Do we have anything that could work as bandages?” he asked. Emori grabbed the opaque strips of material that was in their backpacks.

“Here, let me,” she said, taking his hand again. The fingers of her left hand cradled his wrist while she wrapped the bandages carefully around his palm. Murphy watched her face as she worked. Her expression was unreadable, but the gold flecks in her eyes glowed in the firelight.

“There,” Emori said, finishing off the bandages. “You’re lucky you used your left hand. You’ll still be able to throw knives.”

“Lucky me,” Murphy said, examining the bandages. They were skillfully wrapped. He let his hand fall to his side and looked back up at Emori.

“Why did you pull me out of the rain?” she asked quietly. There was something dark in her eyes, something sad that Murphy didn’t like. “You could have let me die and you didn’t. Why not?”

Murphy swallowed hard, drowning in deep brown eyes with gold flecks.

“Maybe I don’t want you to die,” he said quietly.

“Why?” Her voice cracked. Murphy stared at her, his heart skipping a beat at the tears in her eyes. He shut his, trying to convince himself to do something else, to say something else. If he admitted to how he felt –

Fuck it.

He opened his eyes and reached out, setting one hand on the side of Emori’s face. The touch seemed to surprise her, but not nearly as much as when Murphy leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. She didn’t pull away, instead closing her eyes and reaching up to put her hand over his.

He broke away first, resting his forehead against hers. Her eyes were still closed, her breath shaking.

“I’m going to go see if there is any drinkable water,” he murmured. He stood, grabbing one of the backpacks off the cave floor and heading outside. The sun was shining bright and hot, steam rising from most of the wet surfaces. Murphy grabbed a dry leaf from just inside the cave entrance and walked up to the creek. He crouched by the edge and dipped the leaf into the water.

Within seconds, the leaf was curling up, hissing gently as the water burned it. Murphy threw the rest into the water, frustrated. The acid rain had contaminated their only source of drinking water. He grabbed an iodine packet from his backpack and his water bottle. He drank the last of the clean water in the bottle, then refilled the bottle with the contaminated water. He poured the iodine crystals in and shook up the water. He retried the leaf, dumping the water when he got the same results.

“The creek’s contaminated,” he said, walking back into the cave. “We won’t be able to drink any of the water.”

He was startled by hands grabbing his face and pulling him down, warm lips pressing against his. He dropped his backpack, bringing his hands up to tangle in Emori’s hair.

“You’re an idiot,” she breathed, pulling back barely a centimeter. Murphy grinned.

“A handsome idiot.”

She hummed in agreement and kissed him again, her fingers twisting into his hair. Murphy’s hands dropped to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened.

“We should see if there are any animals to hunt,” Murphy said between kisses. Emori grinned, pulling him in again.

“So serious. There won’t be any. No tributes either.”

Murphy smiled against her lips. She was right, of course. Nobody would venture out for a while after the acid rain, at least not until some of it had evaporated. The animals would have all been scared off, or had been removed prior to the rain. The two of them had some time to themselves.

A quiet sound, a lot like a bell, interrupted them after a minute. Murphy pulled away from Emori, his knife immediately in his hand. He whirled around, one arm out to protect her.

“What is that?” Emori asked. A fat silver cylinder attached to a little parachute drifted to the ground at the entrance of the cave. Murphy frowned at it. It was what was making the strange chime. He walked cautiously towards it, keeping his knife at the ready. He sensed Emori behind him. Once he was close enough, he realized what it was.

“It’s a gift from a sponsor,” he said incredulously. He glanced back at Emori and saw her raising her eyebrows.

“A sponsor?” She snorted. “Who the hell would sponsor us?”

“I don’t know,” Murphy said, grabbing the container. He scanned the area around the mouth of the cave, but saw nothing. He glanced back down at the cylinder. “And I don’t know what they would have sent us.”

“Some water would be nice,” Emori muttered. Murphy nodded.

“Let’s go see what it is,” he said, carrying it into the cave. He felt something slosh around on the inside of the container and grinned. _Water. Drinkable water._

They sat down next to the fire, Emori leaning against Murphy’s shoulder to get a better look. He twisted the top off the cylinder and set it aside, reaching into the container. His hand hit something that felt like a bottle and he pulled it out with a grin.

“Wine?” Emori said with a laugh. “Really?”

“Better than poison water,” Murphy replied, sticking his hand into the container again. There were two small cups at the bottom and a note that read, “Enjoy responsibly.” He showed Emori the note, chuckling.

“I can promise that I’ll enjoy it, but I can say nothing about responsibility,” she murmured in his ear. A shiver ran down Murphy’s spine and he grinned at her, popping the top off the wine.

“Whoever is sponsoring us picked one hell of a gift,” he said. He poured each of them a cup. “It won’t kill us and tastes better than water.” He handed her one of the cups.

“To not dying,” Emori said. Murphy grunted in agreement and tapped his cup against hers.

They drank until the bottle was empty and then got tangled up in each other as night began to fall. Murphy memorized the feel of Emori’s smile against his lips and the curve of her waist. He twisted her hair around his fingers and forgot for a little while that they were technically fighting for their lives.

He even forgot that at least one of them had to die.

 

* * *

 

“Today was certainly a fascinating day!”

“Absolutely! It seems that the Gamemakers this year cooked up some acid rain, and our tributes discovered that the fun way!”

“Not fun for Monroe from Eight. She is our only casualty from today’s acid rain.”

“Our other tributes managed to stay clear of the acid rain. Clarke, Wells, Monty, and Raven all hid out In the Cornucopia, though Wells suffered a few burns to his leg.”

“Let’s not forget the duo that is starting to become everyone’s favorite.”

“No, we certainly can’t forget Murphy and Emori. We saw a protective side of Murphy today, pulling Emori under their rain shelter.”

“Mm. Yes, we all felt that one. Those two certainly tug the heartstrings. That moment in the cave, let’s replay that–”

_“Maybe I don’t want you to die.”_

_“Why?”_

“Turn it off, turn it off, I’m getting emotional again. They’re becoming Capitol favorites, if the gift of a bottle of wine was anything to go by.”

“Definitely. Things got a little steamy in that cave after that.”

“Mmhmm. Their story is getting more and more interesting the longer we watch. I can’t wait to see where it takes us next.”

 

* * *

 

Another day passed uneventfully. Murphy woke up to Emori clumsily braiding her hair over one shoulder and sat up, saying, “Do you need some help with that?” She turned to him and gave him a half-smile, but nodded. He scooted over to her and undid the messy braid she’d been attempting, then skillfully twisted her hair into a five-strand braid that could easily be tucked down the back of her shirt if she needed. He finished with a kiss on her shoulder. Emori reached back, running her fingers along the braid.

“How did you do that?” she asked, looking at Murphy with wide eyes. He shrugged.

“Weaving fishing nets teaches you a thing or two about braiding.”

They went out into the woods again, pleased to find that the lingering effects of the acid rain had finally dissipated. The stream water was drinkable again and Emori found a rabbit in one of the few traps that hadn’t been destroyed by the acid rain. They decided to take a day to themselves, planning for how to take out the rest of the tributes while eating roasted rabbit and maybe cuddling a little.

“We need to figure out where Bellamy and Octavia are hiding,” Murphy said, drawing a circle in the dirt. He marked an “X” for the Cornucopia. “We know Clarke, Wells, Raven, and Monty are all here. Monroe’s dead, so she’s no longer an issue, but we still don’t know where Miller and Harper are. We also need to figure out where the girls from Ten and Five are, and Bryan from Seven.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Emori said sarcastically. Murphy laughed.

“Hopefully Bellamy or Clarke will take care of a couple of them for us. We can head to the Cornucopia again tomorrow and do a bit of spying, figure out how things between the princess and Bellamy are going. Clarke mentioned arranging an ‘accident’ for the Three tributes, so we most likely won’t have to worry about them. Charlotte from Five is barely old enough to be in the Games, so I’m honestly surprised she’s still alive and I’m not really worried about her. It’s the girl from Ten we need to worry about the most right now, and Miller and Harper. They’re all dangerous as hell and we don’t know where they are.”

“It’s a safe bet that they don’t know where we are either,” Emori said, taking the stick from him and adding little things to the dirt map, including the cardinal directions and the approximate location of their cave. “We definitely have an advantage here.”

“We should find a way to hide the cave. Are there any trees nearby that we might be able to break branches off of?”

Emori snorted.

“There’s a whole forest out there, John. Nobody will miss a few branches.”

They spent most of the rest of the day checking their traps and concealing the entrance to the cave. They spent the night curled up together, forgetting the intermittent watches they had used the first few days of the Games.

It was the next day that things started to get interesting.

The two of them left the cave early to spy on the four tributes at the Cornucopia. They were about halfway there when Emori grabbed Murphy’s arm and yanked him behind a tree. Murphy was about to ask why when he saw the little girl from Five, Charlotte. She looked much smaller than he realized, and terrified. He then realized that she was trying not to be seen too.

Wells and Clarke were bent over what looked like a dead animal of some kind. Charlotte continued to creep up behind the two of them. Murphy spotted a knife in the girl’s hand and his eyes widened.

“We need to climb this tree,” he whispered to Emori. He didn’t need to tell her twice. Soon they were sitting in the branches of the tree, watching the scene below them unfold. Clarke and Wells were bent over a dead animal bigger than Murphy had seen before in the arena. They seemed to be arguing over what exactly it was. Murphy almost wanted to shout a warning to them, but knew that was a one-way ticket to a spear in the chest.

Charlotte plunged the knife into Wells’s neck.

Emori put one hand over her mouth and the two of them watched at Clarke screamed Wells’s name and caught his body before he hit the ground. Charlotte tried to run, but got a spear to the back. Murphy shut his eyes.

She was barely a child.

Clarke stayed there for a minute, sobbing, before she picked up the dead animal and Wells’s supplies and headed for the Cornucopia. Murphy and Emori waited a few minutes to climb down and follow. They settled into the same tree they had a few days earlier, watching Clarke break the news to the other tributes. They all seemed upset about it, but Raven and Monty quickly got back to work on one of their contraptions. Clarke paced back and forth for a while, occasionally glancing at the woods.

She was waiting for Bellamy.

It was nearing midday when he finally showed, waiting at the base of the tree Emori and Murphy were hidden in. Murphy was once again glad that they had chosen a tree with thick leaves. He got the feeling Bellamy and Clarke wouldn’t like being spied on.

The conversation between the other two tributes didn’t reveal much that Murphy didn’t already know. With Wells out of the way, Clarke was going to get rid of the Three tributes however she wanted.

“I’m still thinking landmines,” she said. “I need to disarm them anyways, and I don’t want to waste any supplies. Any luck on finding the other tributes?”

“I’ve teamed up with Bryan from Seven and the girl from Ten, Ontari. Bryan seems like a nice kid, so he’ll be fairly easy to get rid of, but Ontari’s crazy.”

“How’s Octavia?”

“She was injured. Some kind of badger-mutt thing.”

Murphy made a mental note to watch out for one of those.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Fuck, Clarke, are any of us going to be okay?”

“Alright, that was a dumb question. I’m sorry. What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to find Miller and Harper. They’re currently the biggest threat to Octavia.”

“What about Murphy and Emori?”

“Murphy’s barely a Career and Emori’s got a deformed hand. They’re nothing to worry about.”

Murphy glanced over at Emori and saw her lips curled back over her teeth in a snarl. The expression on her face said that she was ready to jump out of the tree and prove to Bellamy that they were something to worry about. She even had her hunting knife drawn. Murphy caught her eye and shook his head. Emori lowered the knife and they kept listening.

“Once you take care of the ones from Three, we can meet and find the rest of them. Okay?”

“Okay,” Clarke said. Murphy peered down and saw Bellamy press a soft kiss to Clarke’s forehead, saying, “We’ll meet here noon tomorrow. Good luck.”

He hurried off, leaving Clarke standing at the base of the tree. Murphy and Emori watched her pace back and forth for a minute before she jogged back towards the Cornucopia. She started talking to Raven and Monty, who showed her a bundle of wires attached to a strange metal box. She nodded, taking the contraption from them. She set it aside, picking up her spear while Monty and Raven weren’t looking. Murphy shut his eyes, the screams reaching him faintly. Emori set one hand on his arm.

Two cannons fired.

He opened his eyes to see Clarke dragging their bodies from the Cornucopia. She stopped at the ring of landmines, grabbing something from Raven’s belt. She tossed it on top of the dirt and waited. When nothing happened, she walked over the overturned dirt fearlessly, depositing the bodies at the tree line.

“She disarmed the landmines,” Murphy said, narrowing his eyes. Clarke walked back to the Cornucopia, starting to pack supplies in her backpack. Murphy frowned. What was she doing?

“We need to go,” Emori said. “We need to make a plan.”

Murphy shook his head.

“She’s leaving the Cornucopia. We have to follow her. She must know where Bellamy is.”

“Or maybe she’s going looking for _us_ ,” Emori said. “We have to get back to the cave.”

“If she’s looking for us, then here is the best place. We don’t want to be wandering around the woods with her out and about.”

Clarke finished packing the backpack and headed out of the Cornucopia, to the west.

“Look. She’s going west. That’s the opposite direction from the cave,” Murphy said. “She’s either hunting or going to find Bellamy and the others.”

“Bellamy said he’d meet her here tomorrow,” Emori said. “That means that she doesn’t know where he is. She’s probably hunting. We should get back to the cave.”

Murphy sighed.

“You’re right.”

“However,” Emori said, her eyes glinting. “She turned off the landmines and I can see supplies in there.”

Murphy grinned. They climbed down the tree and headed for the Cornucopia, watching for any other tributes that might be lurking. Emori tossed a branch on the landmines to check that they were really deactivated. Nothing exploded, so the two of them continued on to the Cornucopia. Murphy picked up the metal box that he’d seen Clarke with.

“This must be what they used to deactivate the landmines,” he said. Emori glanced at it.

“Great. Smash it.”

“With pleasure.” He grabbed a large rock from the ground and destroyed the device in two swings. Emori nodded appreciatively.

“I found a spear,” she said, holding up the silver weapon. Murphy grinned.

“Original plan with Octavia still active, then?”

“Absolutely. We know she’s injured now too, so that will make it easier to get to her. Bellamy mentioned killing off the two people he’s allied with right now, so we don’t need to worry about them. We just need to get Bellamy and Clarke to kill each other and we’ll be golden.”

Murphy nodded. The two of them grabbed a backpack and stole the rest of the supplies left in the Cornucopia. They tossed another branch to make sure that destroying the box didn’t reactivate the landmines and headed back to the cave. One of their traps had caught two rabbits, which made for a good dinner.

“We should search for Miller and Harper,” Emori said, leaning into Murphy’s side. “They must have supplies if they’re still alive at this point. We could steal some.”

“What we got from Clarke is more than enough,” Murphy said.

“I know. But the less they have, the more they have to get from somewhere else.”

Murphy nodded. He glanced down at his left hand and realized that the bandages they’d rewrapped that morning were gone. He sat up, staring.

“Emori, look.”

She glanced at his hand and her eyes widened. The bandages were gone, and along with them, any trace of the burns.

“How?” Emori asked, grabbing his hand and turning it over to examine all of the skin.

“I don’t know. It must be what those bandages do.”

“Do you think it would work on cuts, too?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible. We’re not testing that theory,” he added when he spotted her reaching for a knife. She pouted a little, then resettled into his side.

“Now we know how to deal with another acid rain incident,” she said. “We’ll need more of those bandages, though. We’re almost out.”

Murphy nodded, slipping her left hand into his. She seemed startled by the sudden gesture, but let him cradle the hand. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Do you really think we can pull this off?” he asked. She stayed silent, clearly thinking.

“I think we can try,” she finally said. “I think we’ve got half a chance.”

“I think stealing from them might give us more than half a chance,” Murphy said, grinning. Emori laughed at that, tucking her head into his collarbone with a yawn. “Maybe we’ll take a nice hike tomorrow, see if we can find anything, you know, _lying around_ on the forest floor.”

“Hmm,” Emori said, her eyes closing. “Maybe, John, you should get some sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, shutting his eyes and lying back on the cave floor. He fell asleep with a peaceful smile, Emori’s head resting over his heartbeat.

 

* * *

 

“God, these Games have been such a rollercoaster in such a short time.”

“Absolutely. We lost four tributes today.”

“Mmhmm, Wells Jaha from District One, killed by Charlotte Mackay from District Five, who was quickly killed by Clarke Griffin from District One. And Clarke didn’t stop there!”

“No, our tributes from Three found themselves on the wrong end of Clarke’s spear in a truly stunning moment of treachery. She and Bellamy have a plan, and it looks like Clarke’s willing to betray anyone to enact that plan.”

“Her plan’s not a secret, though.”

“Never. Everyone’s favorite duo, Murphy and Emori, witnessed almost all of the day’s events. And they left Clarke with a little less in the way of supplies than she had at the beginning of the day.”

“That was a funny moment, when Clarke got back to the Cornucopia.”

“That certainly was. She was not happy about the landmines, or about Murphy and Emori stealing all of her supplies.”

“I don’t think she knew it was them, do you?”

“Hmm, maybe she didn’t. Either way, things are really getting down to the interesting stuff. We’ll have to wait and see where these Games take us next.”

 

* * *

 

They found Miller and Harper’s hiding place entirely by accident. They were chasing a rabbit through the woods when they spotted smoke up ahead and slowed to a stop. Murphy grabbed Emori’s arm and pulled her behind a tree.

“Clarke and Bellamy are our biggest threats right now,” Miller’s voice said. Murphy peered around the tree, spotting the boy sitting next to the campfire they’d seen the smoke from. Harper appeared a second later, dropping a pile of sticks on the campfire. “Clarke’s working alone now, and Bellamy will do anything to protect his sister.”

“What about Murphy and Bryan and Ontari?”

“Murphy’s a cockroach, but he can’t hide with his girlfriend forever.”

“Cockroach?” Murphy whispered, almost offended. Emori grinned at him.

“A handsome cockroach,” she said quietly. Murphy rolled his eyes at her.

“And the others?” Harper asked. “I’m pretty sure Ontari killed as many people as Clarke did at the bloodbath.”

“She’s crazy, yeah, but not smart. She’s most likely survived this long as a pure fluke. Bryan… Bryan might be a problem, but he’s not a priority.”

Harper sat down next to Miller with a sigh.

“We need to think about what our next move is,” she said. “We can’t stay here forever. Now that Clarke’s alone, she won’t stay in the Cornucopia. She’ll be on the move, wandering the forest.”

Emori shifted next to Murphy and he realized she was grabbing a rock off the ground.

“What are you doing?” he whispered. Emori just grinned at him and threw the rock as hard as she could away from the two of them. It made a loud crashing sound as it hit a pile of dead leaves. Murphy peeked around the tree to see Harper grabbing a sword and Miller a bow.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know. Let’s check it out.”

Murphy pressed himself against the tree as the two tributes sprinted in the direction that Emori had thrown the rock. He barely had time to blink before she was gone, heading towards the abandoned camp.

“Emori,” he hissed. “We can’t just–”

“You were saying?” she interrupted, holding up a bundle of bandages. Murphy couldn’t help the grin that pulled the corners of his mouth up. “Come on. There’s supplies here.”

They grabbed what they could carry. Murphy pretended not to notice Emori pick up the rain shelter, stare at it, then carefully put it back. They found a small satchel of dried meat that Murphy tucked in his bag.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Before they get back.”

They sprinted away from the campsite, back towards the cave. They had to duck behind a tree when Miller and Harper walked by, Miller saying, “It was probably a squirrel. Damn things keep getting away from me.” Emori pressed her hand over her smile, most likely stifling a giggle. Murphy waggled his eyebrows at her as Harper said, “Yeah, sure, Miller. They keep getting away, not you just being a lousy shot.”

“Shut up, Harper.”

Once the other two tributes had passed, Murphy grabbed Emori’s hand and they resumed their escape to the cave. When they got there, Emori tossed her stolen supplies to the ground, laughing. Murphy did the same, grabbing her face and pulling her in for a long kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to do so.

“We make a pretty good team,” he said, grinning down at her.

“Yeah, we do,” she replied, her fingers sliding into his hair. He hummed with pleasure, tipping his head forward to rest his forehead against hers. She clucked at him and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Your hair is just a little too long,” she said, tugging on the strands. “We should fix that.”

Murphy laughed, kissing her one more time before she pulled away and grabbed her knife. She made him sit down in front of her and got to work cutting away some of the longer strands. She left it just long enough to flop in his eyes. When she was finished, she tossed the knife to the side and ran her fingers through the newly cut hair.

“I think you look dashing,” she said, kissing the top of his head. Murphy rolled his eyes, turning around and wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulled her into his lap.

“I think you look beautiful,” he replied. She rolled her eyes at that. “No, really, I do.” He grabbed her left hand. “This?” Her eyes snapped to his and he pressed a kiss to the misshapen knuckles. “Beautiful.” He set the hand down and wrapped a piece of her hair around his finger. “This? Beautiful.” He let the hair fall back against her shoulder and ran his knuckle along the small scar on her cheek. “This?” He leaned forward and brushed his lips over the skin. “Beautiful.” He pressed his thumbs to the corner of her eyes, ignoring the wetness that was beginning to gather there. “These?” He pressed a kiss to each eyelid. “The most damn beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

“John,” she said, her voice trembling. Murphy cut her off, pulling her close and kissing her desperately. She melted into it, looping her arms around his neck. Murphy could feel her tears begin to snake down her cheeks and pulled back to kiss them away. He pulled her into him again, burying his face in her hair. He shut his eyes and tried to push back the thoughts of the next day, or the day after that, or all the days they would need to survive. He tried not to think of the day when one of them would have to die, when this beautiful girl in front of him would be lost to him forever. He clutched her tightly, breathing in the fact that she was there, two eyes with gold flecks and a heartbeat and a promise to stick with him.

They fell asleep that night with Emori curled into Murphy’s side and tears dry on both of their cheeks.

 

* * *

 

Murphy was woken in the middle of the night by the soft chime of a sponsor parachute. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Emori stirred a little next to him.

“John?”

“Shh,” he said, brushing her hair off her forehead. “I’ll be right back. I have to go grab something. I promise I won’t leave you.”

“Good,” she said sleepily, rolling over. “I’d stab you if you did.”

Murphy smiled at that, getting up to walk to the mouth of the cave. The silver parachute was waiting patiently for him, attached to a large round container. He frowned at it. The last gift had been a bottle of wine when they needed drinkable water. What would they have sent them this time, in the middle of the night?

He grabbed the gift, peering out into the woods to make sure there wasn’t anybody lurking before he took the container back into the cave. Emori was still lying down, her eyes shut and her hair strewn around her head. He sat down next to the embers of the fire and twisted the top off the container, squinted at what was inside. There was a note on top.

_For when you need it._

It was a container of soup. Murphy frowned at the note, wondering what it was that the sponsor knew that he didn’t.

That was when he heard the rain start.

He didn’t even have to walk outside to check if it was acid rain. The gift told him everything he needed to know. Of course they would start in the middle of the night to catch tributes off guard. It had been a boring couple of days. Nobody had died. Murphy and Emori had wandered from their cave to steal from Miller and Harper again, but as far as Murphy knew, that was the most interesting thing to happen.

“John?” Emori’s voice said sleepily. “What’s going on?”

“Acid rain,” he said. She walked up next to him, her blanket wrapped around herself. She stared at the mouth of the cave, the rain pouring down just outside.

“What a great surprise,” she said quietly. She glanced at the container in his hands. “Sponsor?”

“Soup.”

She nodded.

“We’ll need it. When do you think the rain will stop?”

“I don’t know. But we can’t go outside, we can’t hunt.”

“How much food do we have left?”

Murphy held up the soup. Emori grimaced.

“Great. Today was supposed to be a hunting day.”

“It makes sense,” Murphy said, setting the soup down. “It’s been four days since somebody died. Things are getting boring.”

“Can’t have that,” Emori muttered. “What are we going to do?”

Murphy grabbed flint off the ground and started trying to relight the fire.

“Ride out the storm. Lay low. Eat some soup. Wait for the rain to stop. What else can we do?”

She sighed and sat down next to him.

“You’re right. There’s really nothing else we can do.”

He got the kindling to light and together they sat in front of the fire, watching the rain pour down.

 

* * *

 

They’d finished off the soup the night before. It hadn’t stopped raining in over a day. Murphy was beginning to think it wasn’t going to stop. They’d run out of kindling earlier that day, after searching the entire cave for dry leaves or twigs.

“We’re going to die here, John,” Emori said, staring out at the pouring rain.

“Says who?” Murphy said, trying to think of strategies for surviving the storm.

“There’s no food and the rain isn’t stopping,” Emori replied, turning to him with empty eyes. “We’ll starve.”

“Who needs food when you have love, right?” Murphy said, trying to cheer her up. She gave him a look that told him that she thought he was an idiot, then laughed. He smiled. “Come here.”

She got on her toes to kiss him, her arms winding around his neck. He pulled her close and tried to forget the acidic rain that was pouring down only a few meters away from them.

The rain didn’t stop until midday the next day. Emori was curled up next to Murphy, humming a lullaby and shivering, when the rain shut off the same way it had the first time they’d encountered it. One minute, death raining from the sky, the next, sunshine and birds chirping. Murphy sat up, staring at the mouth of the cave.

“Emori,” he said. “The rain’s stopped. I’m going to go see if I can find something to eat.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said, moving to get up. Murphy stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“One of us should stay here in case the rain starts again.”

She didn’t look too happy about it, but she sat back down. Murphy kissed her on the cheek and grabbed a backpack, shoving one of their rain shelters in and heading out of the cave. The last of Emori’s traps had disintegrated. He sighed and moved on, hiking a little further into the woods. He could hear the animals but couldn’t see them.

He was about to turn around and go back to the cave when the sounds of the forest suddenly went silent. Murphy tensed, a knife in his hand, and looked around. Was somebody trying to sneak up on him?

The first drops of rain burned.

He swore, struggling to get the rain shelter out of his backpack. The rain began to pour, every drop like a knife in his skin. He gave up on trying to get out the rain shelter and sprinted for the cave. He couldn’t die. Not when Emori was back at the cave, stomach growling as she waited for him. He couldn’t die. They’d gotten so far. He couldn’t die.

The acid rain bit at every centimeter of exposed skin. Murphy could feel the burns forming and ran faster, tripping a little on the wet forest floor. He spotted the cave up ahead and ran harder, the thought of safety spurring his feet to move just a little faster.

Emori shot to her feet when he stumbled into the cave, burned and gasping. Her hands flew to her mouth.

“John–”

“The bandages.”

She didn’t need to hear it twice. Murphy had barely collapsed to the floor when she was there, wrapping the bandages around his hands and arms. She touched his face gently, the fingers of her left hand brushing softly over the burns.

“John,” she whispered. “You idiot.”

“I survived,” he said, offering her a half-smile. She shook her head, grabbing another bandage and tearing it to fit it to his face.

“You’re going to kill yourself soon enough,” she chided, a half-smile on her lips matching his. The expression faded quickly and she kissed his cheek. “You scared me.”

“I’m okay,” Murphy said. “I was scared too, if it makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t,” Emori sighed. “But I’ll take it.”

She ran out of bandages before Murphy ran out of burns and bit down hard on her lip, running her fingers gently over the remaining burned skin.

“Tributes.”

They both glanced up at the sound of the announcement.

“There will be a feast at sunset today at the Cornucopia. Each of you has something you need. There will be a backpack for each tribute at this feast with that something in it. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Emori held Murphy’s gaze and he could tell what she was thinking.

“No,” he said.

“John–”

“Going to that feast isn’t a smart move,” he pressed. “It’s not a survivor’s move.”

“These burns could get infected and we need food,” Emori argued. “We can’t risk not going.”

“No. I’m not going.”

“Then wait for me while I go,” she said, sounding irritated.

“Emori–”

“You can’t change my mind.”

Murphy closed his mouth, looking into her eyes and knowing that she was right. He couldn’t change her mind, no matter what he said.

She spent the rest of the day until sunset gathering sticks for their fire. She wouldn’t let Murphy move from his spot on the floor, insisting that he needed to rest and recover from his run in the acid rain. He couldn’t argue with her and instead watched her prepare for the feast, strapping every single knife they had to her body and keeping the curved hunting knife she was so skilled with against her wrist.

“Come back before dark,” Murphy said. She rolled her eyes, bending down to kiss his forehead.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said. He nodded, watching her leave. He waited until he was sure she was far from the cave to get up and grab the one knife she’d left behind and slip out of the cave. He was hungry, dammit, and he needed to kill something.

Besides, Emori would be back soon, and he wasn’t about to twiddle his thumbs while he waited.

 

* * *

 

Emori crouched at the tree line, staring at the table in the center of the clearing. The backpacks for Four and Nine were right next to each other, waiting patiently to be grabbed. The one for Four looked a little smaller than the one for Nine. Emori wondered which contained food and which contained the medicine she needed for John.

She finally darted from the tree line, not realizing until it was too late that Miller and Harper did the same thing. The three tributes looked at each other before Emori sprinted for the table, grabbing the backpack for Four and dodging the arrow that Miller sent flying in her direction. She fumbled the backpack for Nine, her left hand refusing to hold two things at once. She crouched down, sliding the strap of the Four backpack up on her arm and wrapping the strap of the Nine one around her wrist.

A piercing scream came from somewhere behind her and she whirled around, a throwing knife at the ready. Harper was standing over Miller, who had an axe sticking out of his chest. Bile rose in Emori’s throat as the cannon fired and Bellamy came sprinting out of the trees. Emori turned and grabbed the Two backpack without thinking. She turned and saw Harper try to strike at Bellamy before he yanked the axe from Miller’s chest and buried it in hers.

A cannon fired.

Bellamy turned from the two dead tributes to stare at Emori. She stared back, her eyes wide with fear. He raised his axe and Emori reacted before she could think, throwing her knife with accuracy that was fueled by adrenaline and fear. It pierced Bellamy’s bicep and he dropped his axe with a roar of pain. Emori sprinted away from the feast as fast as her feet could carry her, the three backpacks heavy on her arm. She stopped close to the cave, her stomach heaving despite being empty. Tears forced their way from her eyes and she squeezed them shut, trying to rid the image of Bellamy’s axe in Harper’s chest from her mind. Harper had been a sweet girl, maybe too sweet for the Games.

She finally straightened and headed for the cave.

 

* * *

 

Murphy was skinning a squirrel when he heard the cannon fire. His head shot up and fear wrapped a metal belt around his chest. Barely a minute later, a second cannon fired. He tried to keep his breathing slow and even, his hands shaking as he continued skinning the squirrel. She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead. He would have felt it if she was dead. She wasn’t dead.

Waiting for her to return was agonizing. Every minute that passed without Emori’s appearance was a punch to his gut. He was beginning to think that she wasn’t coming back when a shadow appeared in the cave entrance and he glanced up to see Emori standing there, three backpacks in her hands. All the fear left him in a rush and he could breathe again. His shaking hands continued their work.

“Miller and Harper are dead,” Emori said, dropping the backpacks next to Murphy. He was too focused on skinning the squirrel and not crying to notice the way her voice trembled.

“Good. Less for us to have to do.”

“John,” she said, her voice cracking. This got Murphy’s attention. He glanced up at her and realized that she had tears in her eyes. He shot to his feet, cupping her face in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“Bellamy’s taking out anyone he thinks is a threat to his sister,” Emori said. “We need to stay here and lay low. No more sneaking out to steal from other tributes.”

“Emori, it’s fine. Nobody knows we’re here. They don’t even know we’re the ones stealing from them. They won’t find–”

“Dammit, John, think!” she cried, a tear slipping from her eye. She reached up to put her hand on his cheek. “Don’t give him a reason to pick _you_ next.” Her voice broke a little. “Survive. _Please_.”

Murphy shut his eyes, leaning into her touch a little.

“Okay,” he finally said. “We’ll stay here.”

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. He buried his face in her hair, clutching onto her. He hated the Games, hated that they would never be together because only one person could ever win the Games. It was such a cruel twist of fate that the Games brought them together in the first place.

She pulled away from him, swiping at her eyes.

“We need to see what’s in these,” she said, grabbing the backpack with the big “9” stitched to it. Murphy sat down next to the fire, letting her tuck herself into his side as they examined the contents. She’d somehow gotten the Two backpack as well, though he didn’t ask how. The Nine backpack contained food, thank God. The Four backpack had an injection of some kind and more bandages for Murphy. He guessed the injection would either knock him out or help the burns. They turned to the Two backpack.

“What do you think it was that Miller and Harper needed?” Emori asked. Murphy shrugged.

“Who knows.”

The backpack was full of arrows, iodine packets, and food. Murphy set the food next to the fire and dumped the iodine packets into his backpack. The arrows went into Emori’s “for traps” pile. Murphy turned the backpack upside down and shook, checking to see if he’d missed anything at the bottom.

A small piece of paper floated out. Emori reached out and caught it before it could flutter into the fire. Six words were written neatly on the paper.

“Ten minutes west of the Cornucopia,” Emori read aloud. She frowned. “What’s ten minutes west of the Cornucopia?”

Something clicked in Murphy’s mind.

“Remember when we were spying on Clarke and she packed up and headed west?” he said. Emori nodded. “I think she was heading to Bellamy. That must be what’s ten minutes west. It’s directions to Bellamy and Clarke’s hideout.”

Emori’s eyes widened and she stared at the slip of paper.

“What should we do?”

“What we do best,” Murphy said, standing up. “Survive.”

 

* * *

 

The injection healed the burns overnight. By morning, Murphy was able to take off the bandages. Emori wanted to go for Bellamy and Clarke at first light, while the sun was still clearly in the east as a reference point. Murphy suggested waiting until sunset to head out. That way, they would be heading into the sun.

“The longer we wait, the more prepared they’ll be,” Emori argued. “We have to act now.”

“We need to be prepared too,” Murphy said. “We don’t know how many people are there, or what kind of setup they have.”

“I guess,” Emori said, staring at the cave floor. She sat there in silence for a moment before saying, “I’m going to go see if I can track down some more kindling for the fire.”

Murphy waited until she was far enough away from the cave before he grabbed his backpack and headed for the Cornucopia. He just needed to see what was going on, and they couldn’t risk both being there at once. If he was caught, Emori would still have a chance of winning.

She’d kick his ass if (no, _when_ ) he got back, but it was worth it if it would ensure her safety for just a little longer.

He kept the sun at his back once he’d passed the Cornucopia, thinking about all the things that could possibly be waiting for him at Bellamy and Clarke’s hideout.

He finally spotted a small clearing up ahead and quickly ducked behind a tree. He peeked around the tree and saw a campfire in the middle of the clearing. A glance up told him that they had cleverly tied the rain shelters to the surrounding trees, creating a clear roof of safety. He looked around a little more and spotted a backpack lying a few meters away from him. He grinned and crept around the tree. The backpack wasn’t too far away. He could reach it, and then he’d be on his merry way, back to the cave and Emori. He clutched a knife in one hand, reaching for the backpack with the other.

The blade of a sword pressed to his throat and the knife was pulled out of his hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He closed his eyes, internally cursing himself. He waited for the cold steel to drag across his flesh. The sword pushed in and –

“Ontari, wait.”

_Bellamy._

“Why?” Ontari demanded. Murphy glanced up. Bellamy was standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. Murphy noted the bandages wrapped around his bicep.

“He’s not alone. We need to know where the girl is.”

“Go to hell,” Murphy spat.

“See?” Ontari said. “He’s not going to tell us. Why do you care about the girl anyways? She’s outnumbered, and without him she’s alone.”

“She’s more dangerous than we thought,” Bellamy snapped. “Take him over there.”

Ontari dragged Murphy over by the campfire and shoved him to his knees with the sword to his throat. Clarke was sharpening her spear and the boy from Seven, Bryan, was standing guard. Bellamy thumbed the blade of his axe, glaring at Murphy.

“Where’s the girl?” he asked. “We know you two have been working together.”

“Just kill me,” Murphy said, staring at the fire. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Bellamy said, stepping closer. Murphy didn’t flinch, raising his eyes to glare at Bellamy defiantly.

“Get it over with,” he spat.

“I can promise you a quick death if you just tell us where the girl is,” Bellamy said, anger peeking through his voice. Murphy snorted.

“Wish I could promise you the same thing,” he said. He leaned forward, his throat pressing against the sword. “If you do find her, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

Bellamy stared at Murphy for another minute before saying, “Ontari, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. He’ll make good bait.”

Murphy closed his eyes. _Shit._

Ontari pulled him to his feet, dragging him over to a tree on the edge of the small clearing. Bellamy and Clarke started conversing in low voices by the fire, Clarke keeping a tight grip on her spear. Bryan was leaning against a tree, one hand casually on the axe in his belt. Murphy wasn’t fooled by the boy’s seemingly innocent appearance. District Seven was lumber, and Bryan had more muscles than it looked.

“If we’re not going to kill you yet,” Ontari said in Murphy’s ear. “We might as well have a little fun first.”

A thrill of fear ran down Murphy’s spine at those words. The sword to his throat shifted a little.

“I don’t think so.”

Ontari let out a strange choking sound and Murphy turned around to see Emori standing behind her with a snarl, her hunting knife buried between Ontari’s shoulder blades. Emori twisted the knife a little, then yanked it out. She grinned at Murphy.

“You followed me.”

“Of course, you idiot.”

“Good to see you too,” he said. Emori threw another knife, this one hitting Bryan between the eyes. Bellamy and Clarke noticed that, shooting to their feet. Murphy ducked behind a tree and Emori glared at the other two tributes.

“You were looking for me?” she called. “Well, you found me. And I found one of you, too.”

She yanked an unconscious Octavia out from behind a tree, placing a knife at the younger girl’s throat.

“Let us walk away and she lives,” she said. Murphy found himself grinning like an idiot. Emori was a genius. Bellamy would never let them hurt his sister, even if it meant letting them get away.

Emori started to drag Octavia along, away from the camp. Murphy stuck close to her. Bellamy was watching them go with barely-contained rage, his axe in his hand. Clarke had her spear, too. Emori glanced over at Murphy.

“We get far enough away, then we let her go and run for it,” she said quietly. “We can finish this another day.”

Murphy nodded.

“I’m going to kill you!” Bellamy roared.

“What else is new!” Murphy shouted back.

Octavia stirred.

“Bellamy?” she murmured sleepily. Her eyes snapped open and she started to struggle against Emori. “Bellamy!” she screamed.

“Octavia!”

A spear flew through the trees, heading straight for Murphy. He ducked and the spear tore a gash in the top of his shoulder. He hissed in pain, dropping to one knee.

“John, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, standing. He grabbed the spear. “Remember our original plan?”

Emori nodded, taking the spear from him. She hesitated, then plunged it into Octavia’s shoulder. The younger girl screamed. Emori dropped her and the two of them ran for it, Murphy clutching his shoulder. They glanced behind them and saw Bellamy skid on his knees next to Octavia, yanking the spear from her shoulder and pressing his hands to the wound. Clarke wasn’t far behind with bandages.

“You hit Octavia instead of Murphy!” Bellamy’s shout reached them. Murphy stopped behind one of the trees, taking the knife that Emori tossed him.

“I aimed for Murphy, you know that! I thought I hit him!”

“Clearly you didn’t!”

Murphy saw Emori shut her eyes, holding her hunting knife close to her chest.

“She’s losing too much blood,” Clarke said. “I need more bandages.”

“We don’t have more bandages!”

A moment of silence.

“Bellamy, I’m sorry.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ve done everything I can! Unless you have some magic healing salve hidden somewhere, I can’t do anything more for her. The wound is too deep. Without serious medicine, she’s–”

“You said you’d protect her!”

“I tried! God, Bellamy, you think I didn’t try?”

“Yeah, well you didn’t try hard enough.”

Another moment of silence.

“Bellamy–”

A cannon fired.

Emori pressed her hand over her mouth, shutting her eyes. Murphy reached out to set one hand on her arm.

“She’s dead.”

“Bellamy–”

“The only reason I’m in these damn Games is I wanted to make sure that _she_ won. I killed to make that happen and you ruined that with one damn spear.”

“I’m sorry, Bellamy.”

“I know.”

Murphy glanced around the tree to see Clarke wrap her arms around a shaking Bellamy.

“We’ll see her again,” Clarke said. “We will.”

“I want to see her now,” Bellamy said, his voice breaking. Clarke nodded.

“We can do that. Together?”

Bellamy picked up his axe and Clarke picked up her spear.

“Together.”

Murphy turned away, wrapping his arms around Emori and shutting his eyes. A minute later, the cannons fired.

“We’re the last ones,” Emori whispered into his collarbone. “What a cruel joke.”

She pulled away from him and pressed her hunting knife into his hand.

“End it,” she said. She traced a line on her throat. “Right here.”

“What?”

“I can’t do it myself,” she said. “And I couldn’t live if you died, okay? So win the Games.”

“Emori–”

“Survive. _Please_.”

Murphy swallowed, staring into brown eyes with golden flecks that were filled with tears, and raised the knife.

“I’m scared to die,” he said softly. Emori set her hand over his.

“You’re not going to,” she said firmly.

He inhaled shakily.

“Do it quick,” she told him. “You have to win.”

“Why?” he demanded. “Why can’t you win?”

“Because,” Emori said, staring at his chest. “I can’t… I can’t win.”

Murphy dropped the knife, putting his hands on either side of her face and pulling her in for a kiss that was tearstained and desperate.

“John,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please. You have to end it.”

“You’re right,” Murphy said, shutting his eyes. “Just give me a second.”

He inhaled the air, sweet and cool on his tongue. He slid his hands into her hair, the strands slipping between his fingers. He listened to the sound of her heartbeat, thumping in her chest. He took a deep breath, the smell of the woods and pure _Emori_ filling his nose. Finally, he opened his eyes, staring into those beautiful brown eyes. Eyes full of tears and wit and intelligence and _love_ , God, she loved him. And he loved her. He loved her so much he felt like he was drowning in it.

He crouched down and picked up the hunting knife. Emori shut her eyes.

“Do it quick,” she repeated. Murphy nodded.

“I will.”

He plunged the knife into his own stomach.

 

* * *

 

Emori opened her eyes and screamed, “John!” when she realized what he had done. He yanked the knife from his flesh and she caught him before he could fall, lowering him to the ground gently. She pulled him into her lap, taking the knife from him and throwing it to the side. She sobbed once, cradling his shoulders.

“What have you done?” she demanded, her breath stuttering.

Murphy smiled weakly at her, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve got no one who’ll miss me,” he said. “You have your brother. You need to survive. You need to get home.”

“I’ll miss you, you idiot!” Emori cried, holding him tighter. Her hand pressed frantically to the wound. Murphy shook his head.

“We both knew how this would end,” he said, coughing up a little more blood. “One of us had to die and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.”

“You idiot,” Emori said softly, shutting her eyes tightly to squeeze the tears out. Another shuddering sob shook her body and she hunched over like she was the one that had been stabbed.

“You’re the last one in the arena,” Murphy said. He smiled at her. “You won.”

She pushed her hand further into the wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said firmly, but she could feel the life draining from him even as she said the words.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Emori had to lean in close to hear what he was saying. “I now present to you the victor of this year’s Hunger Games.”

“No, no–”

“From District Nine,” he continued, his voice fading even further. “Emori.”

She felt it, the moment that the life left him. It hit her like the knife he’d plunged into his own stomach. She clutched him tighter, shaking her head. He couldn’t be dead.

“No, no, John,” she whispered. “No, you can’t be gone, you promised–” Her voice broke and she sobbed once, curling over his body. “You promised–”

She screamed, burying her face in his neck. He couldn’t be gone. The scream broke off into sobbing as she sat there, rocking his body back and forth.

It took four people to pry her away from him when they finally came for both his body and her. She screamed and fought until they put a needle of sedative into her neck and darkness folded into her consciousness. When she woke up, she was back in the Capitol, restraints around her wrists keeping her from leaping out of her hospital bed and an IV in her arm. Her mentor was standing at her bedside, brushing her hair gently off her forehead and telling her that she would be going home soon. Emori let her head fall back against the pillows, staring at the white ceiling above her head. _Home._ The place that John gave his life to get her back to.

“Miss Emori,” a new voice said. Emori looked up, glaring at the newcomer. He stood at the end of her bed, his hands clasped behind his back. She recognized him.

“You might know me,” he said. “I’m–”

“The head Gamemaker,” Emori said with a sneer. “Marcus Kane.”

Kane spared a brief smile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

“Wish I could say the same.”

Another smile, this one seeming a little more forced, flicked across Kane’s face.

“I’m just coming to see how you are doing,” he said, setting one hand on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Go fuck yourself, Kane,” Emori spat. “John’s dead because of you.”

He straightened, his gaze turning cool.

“I see you’re doing well, then. I’ll send for the doctor, get you cleared to go home.”

“How do you sleep at night?” Emori demanded, tears ruining her glare. “How do you sleep knowing that twenty-three kids are dead because of you?”

“You aren’t exactly innocent. Everyone in that arena was a killer.”

“I killed four people,” Emori said, her voice trembling. “The only person John ever killed was himself. You didn’t answer my question. How do you sleep at night?”

“How do you?”

“I _don’t_!” Emori screamed, pulling against the restraints around her wrists. She calmed a little, biting back tears to glare properly at Kane. “I don’t sleep, I just plan.”

Kane swallowed, clearly realizing that he was standing in a room with a killer who didn’t particularly like the fact that he was still breathing.

 “John died to give me that,” she said quietly. “A fact that I hope you remember.”

Kane left. Emori shut her eyes, squeezing the tears out. She would not break. She would hold it together. She would go home. She would have happiness again. She would remember John, remember his sacrifice. She would look her brother in the eye and know that she was damn lucky to be able to.

John was the only time the odds were ever in her favor.

**Author's Note:**

> I fixed the most grievous error of the show - Emori got to kill Ontari in this.  
> Anyways i'm sobbing so come sob with [me](https://katswatermelon.tumblr.com/)


End file.
